SCARED CONGREGATION FOR DIVINE WORSHIP

EXHORTATORY ADMONITION RECTUM ABUSUM

Upon the rectification of certain liturgical abuses

It has come to our attention that the directives pertaining to the implementation of the novus ordo have not been carried out in full conformance to the modern, liberal, open and all-embracing spirit of the reforms. We must therefore detail those areas and instances in which, in keeping with the new and open spirit of consultation, collegiality and aggiornamento, our sovereign will is to be obeyed without question.

It must be constantly borne in mind that, whereas the church is heir to a rich architectural tradition, banners and children’s paintings placed on the sanctuary (and particularly those placed upon the sacrificial supper-table itself) should in every case clash and otherwise distract from the extant surroundings (with great sensitivity, of course, to the way in which they shall have been re-ordered in keeping with suitably Worlockian principles).

Inasfar as the reformed liturgy is, above all else, a communal celebration, the people of God shall be expected to carry on a lively and active (actuosus) participation in a full range of chit-chat, nattering, craic and gossip right up until, and even after, the entry of the celebrant. Silent, solitary, private prayer is to be ostracised as being not conducive to the life of the community. Children shall be particularly encouraged to commentate upon the liturgy throughout.

The celebrant must be always mindful of the vagaries surrounding modern transport. Whereas people used to walk to church in the pouring rain and arrive on time, many now drive there in warmth and comfort and will consequently be late. The liturgy should therefore start considerably after the advertised time. When the celebrant attains the sanctuary and administers a perfunctory semi-horizontal pout at the ritual supper-slab, it does not suffice for him then simply to say to the people: "the Lord be with you". This is not to be seen as a greeting, but must be followed up by a cheery "good morning" as if nothing significant had theretofore been said.

Saints’ days which fall on a Sunday are to be mentioned as though they were being celebrated, though the Mass may then be that of the Sunday (or not). Memorials are to be observed at whim, with or without matching prefaces. Canon IV is never prohibited and may be used with various prefaces (if any). Seasons are to be anticipated (see homilies below).

Offence may not be given to the congregation (or at least those who have arrived by this point) by the mention of sin. Only platitudes may be mouthed; ideally the same old ones week in, week out. The whole penitential rite may be omitted at whim. The confiteor is to be avoided like the plague, nor is there to be any striking of anybody’s breast by anyone (unless authorised by the bishop).

The conciliar documents call upon the people of God to "gorge avidly at the sumptuously-laden ritual feasting-surface of the Lord’s word" (Usque ad nauseam, VIII). However, local considerations and accommodations must always be borne in mind. Excluding from the ministry of the word such people as those who can scarcely talk let alone read is deeply uncharitable and unChristian. All support and consideration must be given to the illiterate and the dyslexic in putting them forth as lectors. A thick foreign accent should no more be seen as an impediment to reading out loud to several hundred people who are supposed to be listening as would, say, the lack of a heavy goods vehicle licence be seen as an obstacle to driving a 65-tonne lorry-load of refrigerated pigs’ livers from Wolverhampton to Dortmund. The lector must always remember that, however stupendous or significant might be the events in the history of mankind’s salvation that he or she is reading about, the words must be delivered like a radio shipping-forecast, though with considerably less passion. The lector’s principal aim must be to get it over with. Too audible, explicit or comprehensible a rendering of the word of God could threaten the jobs of the hard-working staff of those admirable companies whose sumptuous paperback Mass-books and delightfully mistake-ridden missalettes so richly adorn our parish-churches. (This attitude must be contrasted with that of the celebrant who must exaggerate and belabour the most trivial of utterances.)

This is more accurately to be described as the "talk". This should ideally be given by a young laywoman in tight trousers and involve an appeal for money. If such a woman cannot be found, it should consist of a deeply lacklustre letter from a bishop which is to be read without having been looked at beforehand and without any expression. Only in extreme circumstances should the celebrant preach. In such cases, he should speak ex tempore though he should occasionally look down through his bifocals as though he were reading from non-existent notes. The homily is to be based upon the previous evening’s Independent Television news and should refer to football. It shall be delivered as a single, 15-minute-long sentence connected by lots of "and"s and the intonation of each succeeding phrase must make it sound as if the celebrant is about to finish. It shall not, however, have an actual conclusion but should sort of peter out. On no account is the celebrant to prepare what he says nor should he make use of any quotations from scripture (particularly from the readings of that day) nor from the teaching of the church. The word "Catholic" may never be used, nor may anything be said which might give offence to anyone present or absent who is not a Catholic or who perhaps is a Catholic but who dissents from the church’s teaching in any way.

By far the most important and central part of the novus ordo, this exquisitely prolonged episode is meant to symbolise and, indeed, demonstrate the laity’s self-effacing reluctance to volunteer for anything. The most decrepit, disgusting and shabbiest of old men (ideally broken down, nicotine-stained, half-dead alcoholics) shall be chosen to take up some moth-eaten baskets to the front of the church and then, after much creaky arthritic genuflection and forelock-tugging, begin a tortuous purge of the congregation, which shall be accompanied by a series of bizarre gestures, furtive grunts and menacing leers. Then shall the resulting coloured envelopes, foreign coins, buttons, etc., with great noise and fuss, be transferred between baskets at the back of the church and brought up the nave in a shuffling and diffident way. In the mean time, three adolescent girls in jeans and jackets with advertisements on them shall be cajoled into bringing up the cruet and bread. All shall then bow, scrape, curtsy or salute in their own distinctive ways and at different times, and shall then return to their places. The adolescent girls must blush and giggle on the way back while the old men may now go outside for a smoke, their Sunday-obligation fulfilled.

Unlike in the other parts of the liturgy for which the celebrant is not going to be prepared in any way, at this stage he has on his side the element of surprise. By various telescoping, paraphrasing and downright omission, he can make the assorted actions of water-spilling, hand-wringing and chalice-denting as long or short as he likes. Whereas the liturgy so far has been almost exclusively under the control of the loud woman with a woolly hat in the second row who makes all the responses early and in the post-conciliar interim version, now’s the chance for the priest to demonstrate who’s boss. Not only can he wrong-foot the assorted creeps, sycophants and Opus Dei devotees who are actually trying to follow what is going on, but he might also startle those who have been asleep and/or are saving on their hearing-aid batteries. Suddenly everybody’s got to stand up and, with just one intake of breath—and against the clock—rattle off one of the longest and most deeply unpunctuated sentences in responsorial history. No wonder nobody says it like it means anything. Well done lads! That’ll show ‘em.

The intervening words and the perfunctory way in which they are said serve only to reinforce the effectiveness of the preceding creeping-up on the congregation via the orate fratres. All that remains now is to get them back down again (only this time awake) and to keep an eye on the baskets on the steps of what was once referred to as the sanctuary. It is also an occasion to "count the house". At this point the celebrant may fumble for several minutes with the missal and realise that the Mass he is offering is, in fact, unintentionally votive.

Unless one is a bishop who harbours ambitions and who has probably been on the telly (and who therefore says everything unnecessarily slowly) it’s downhill from here on in. Elevation (let alone veneration) is optional. A big-bottomed matron in plastic trousers can start fiddling about with the tabernacle as soon as she deems necessary. Altar-boys (and, yes, -girls) may sit, stand, kneel or scratch, and bells may be rung or dropped altogether.

Eager as the laity are to partake of the presumably-confected sacrament, all shall stand and queue at the same time. Distribution of communion—the customary duty of women in beige Crimplene trouser-suits—may be performed in cases of extreme need only by the clergy themselves.

Many members of the congregation will by now be half their normal size for want of drink, yet holy mother church ordains that it is right and fitting for them to be detained for just a little while longer while they hear about the many and laudable activities which are being undertaken in their name yet without their slightest interest let alone participation. The end of such a series of announcements may rightly be accompanied by a scarcely-audible sigh of relief.

As if the people needed to be told at this late stage, it’s time to go home. The celebrant may choose (though always with a prudent view to his own subsequent physical safety) to prolong matters that bit longer with a few well-chosen aphorisms, jokes or folksy good wishes. It is, however, usually advisable to shut up and get off as soon as possible. The deep symbolism of the sanctuary-procession-without-the-priest may here be made manifest. There is much mystical richness and spiritual depth in the fact that, when the congregation are told that the proceedings are at an end, their response is one of heartfelt thanksgiving.